Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all characters contained therein are not mine. The Winfield family, however, are mine and the story idea is mine. So don't borrow them without permission.
Author's Note: Yippee! I finished it! I finished this monster before I went away to school! I'm so happy!!!!
*cough* Yeah. Anyway, this is my third Buffy fic (second completed one though). Hopefully, this one's a little better than the others. However, I know absolutely NOTHING about Angel or Passions, so I'm working on what little I've learned from the fics I've read.
Rating: PG-13 for mentions of nudity, a little violence and a couple of swears. Also, a little bit of my typical ever-so-subtle Angel bashing (hence the aforementioned violence). *maniacal grin* How I love fanfic!
Archival: You want it, take it. Just make sure to e-mail me with a link to where it's going, or leave the link in my guestbook.
Summary: Spike and Angel were especially evil as vampires. Yet two of the most notorious vampires to ever rise from the grave were able to regain their souls and each fought for a time at the side of the same Chosen One. Why them? Why this Slayer? Post-"Chosen".
Prologue:
Don't look at her eyes. Don't look at her eyes, ran the thoughts through the girl's head, followed quickly by the thought, There really are vampires. Shit!
A long-clawed hand went for her throat. Reacting with instincts honed by ten years of self-defense training, the girl knocked the offending limb away and followed up with a strong backhand to the thing in front of her.
The hit contained enough force to send the thing's head whipping around; long, dark hair forming a blasphemous halo around its head. A moment later, the thing recovered and turned back to face the girl.
"Ooh," it cooed, "Miss Edith likes challenges, she does. Tells me your blood is all honey-sweet like the morning dew."
The girl had to stop herself from gagging, but covered the action with a sneer, "Just try and get some, you psychotic, blood-sucking freak."
The creature emitted a low growl, approaching slowly. Damn, that should have goaded her into making a mistake. Suddenly, the long-haired vampiress was a hurricane of punches, slashes and kicks. Somehow, the girl managed to evade the worst of them and still reach for the chopsticks restraining her hair in a tight bun. With an almost soundless grunt, the two objects were free of her hair and fitting in her hand as comfortable as any dagger or knife could have been.
With a back flip and a spinning kick, the vampiress found the first of the two chopsticks protruding from her stomach. Fangs gleamed in a grotesque smile as the wood was pulled out and thrown to the pavement.
"Oh dear. Dinner doesn't know how to kill us. Poor little thing."
The girl could see the seemingly fragile muscles underneath its clothing bunching together as it prepared for another attack. Then she had to duck as the creature flipped over her head. Finally, not even pausing to think, the girl slammed the chopstick home into the thing's breast. When the dust settled, an amazed teenage girl grabbed the bookbag that had lain forgotten since the attack and staggered home.
*****
Minutes, hours- time passed. The sun peaked its cheery head over the horizon and gazed in wonder. The pile of dust was surrounded by three who had not been there the minute before. Rising higher to get a better look, the sun saw the wind pick up the dust and swirl it around until it formed a miniature tornado. Then, from the midst of the tornado, a naked figure emerged. It collapsed at the feet of the three and, as the unknowing world slept on, the wind brought the sun another tidbit of information: the whispers of the three as they gazed down upon the still figure before them.
"From the ashes of the sire, the son rises."
"We've told you what you need to know about the past and about the future-"
"But know also that you are forgiven."